British Isles England's Barbaric Relatives
by Raixser
Summary: What I think the rest of England's family are like, plus two not very well-known members of the British Isles Clan, Orkney and Shetland. Rated T for some bad language, courtesy of Big Brother Scotland. One-shots with British Isles and the world.
1. Chapter 1

_**Scotland**_

Tadhg Ross. He is the most muscular in build of the UK Brothers, and is the second tallest (beaten by Cahir). Messy dark red hair and grey eyes. In the regular occurrence that Tadhg can't be bothered to shave he still doesn't get much more than thick stubble.

A fun-loving man with a quick temper as well as a generally playful manner. He loves hugs and drinking, rain and generally all things wet. For the most part whenever you receive an insulting nickname from Tadhg it's a sign that he is actually quite fond of you. He is affectionate, in a blatantly macho way and tends to be a bit too rowdy. Stubborn as a mule and prone to humiliating himself, not that he particularly cares.

Tadhg is incredibly patriotic and has no inhibitions about showing his body to anybody – in fact he has been known to completely strip and go swimming, or lounge about, just for the hell of it. Like the rest of his siblings he can see fairies and so on, and has actually claimed Nessie (Loch Ness Monster) as his pet/comrade/cross-country-transportation.

Though he might not seem the cultured sort Tadhg really enjoys music and poetry. He can come across as a bit of a brute with his blunt, hardly-educated way of talking, gravelly voice and love of a good rough-housing but really he is quite smart, warm and friendly. He is incredibly easy to get along with – the only exception being England with whom he seems to have a constant rivalry going on.

He also has a bit of a smoking habit and is quite likely the reason for America's junk-food problem, what with his love of all things deep-fried. Along with all that he has an unhealthy love for all things sharp and dangerous (swords, knives, you name it).

Tadhg is an appreciator of comedy, and is particularly proud of three of his famous citizens (Frankie Boyle, Billy Connolly and more recently Kevin Bridges)

_**Ireland**_

Cahir Burke. A lanky young man who stands three inches taller than the second-tallest UK Brother, Tadhg. His hair is a light coppery red and is long enough to pull back into a ponytail. Cahir's skin is littered with freckles and his eyes are a bright green.

While generally a good-natured individual he is probably the quickest sibling to take offense to things. He is always quick to side with Scotland in most things, though has been known to butt-heads with his brother on occasions. He is probably the most in-tune with the 'wee-folk' out of the brothers all and as such can get the most out of them. He is followed around almost constantly by a Cu Sith hound that he calls Conall.

Cahir tends to talk quite fast and is able to go on and on about almost anything. His favorite pass-time is probably going drinking with Tadhg. He loves telling stories and everything to do with the countryside – City's tend to do his head in and he can't normally be bothered with them unless he has to. He hates people taking themselves too seriously which is why he enjoys Scotland's company so much. Still he is also fairly fond of his own personal space so he gets incredibly frustrated and overly aggressive when Scotland tries rough-housing with him.

While he is over-all quite a friendly individual he is known for holding long and intense grudges. Half the time he doesn't seem to know if he wants to strangle his brothers or have a laugh and a pint of Guinness.

His favorite color is green and is also a firm believer in luck, which he naturally has quite a bit of. At the same time Cahir is very fond of potatoes and probably knows more ways of cooking them than just about anyone else in the world.

_**Wales**_

Emrys Kerwyn. Stands a couple of inches taller than England and sports a reasonably strong build as well. His sandy brown hair falls in a fairly messy mane which often ends up covering at least one (if not both) of his eyes. He is the only brother to have a light tan to his skin and his eyes are a soft blue color.

Doesn't socialise much outside of his family, and is actually really quite shy and quiet. It takes some time to get to know him but he's a good lad to laze around with once you do. He doesn't like over-exerting himself but has no problem doing things that need doing. He doesn't take a lot of interest in the goings on in the world, preferring to concentrate on his own country instead.

Emrys is often accompanied by a small red dragon hatch-ling which he calls Cymru after his country.

It is almost impossible to incite Emrys' wrath, in fact you'd be forgiven for thinking that he just doesn't care about anything at all, as he just shrugs everything off with a non-committal grunt. He isn't self-absorbed or arrogant and likes to just go with the flow on everything. He is incredibly good with kids, although he doesn't talk all that much.

He can prove to be a frightening enemy if you threaten his family or his people, while if you simply attacked or threatened him individually he likely wouldn't even bat an eyelid.

His diet is probably the healthiest out of his siblings and he is a huge fan of rugby. Emrys has been known to become incredibly affectionate and giddy on the rare occasion he actually drinks enough to get drunk.

He actually hasn't got a problem with narcolepsy, although he has a gift to be able to fall asleep anywhere without much hassle.

_**Orkney**_

Thorfin Rendall. A tall well-built young man with short, spiky black hair and blue-grey eyes. He has a very casual, and quite frankly quite scruffy appearance – only making any effort when he absolutely has to.

Easy-going and modest – Thorfin is a hard worker who doesn't believe in getting stressed out about anything. He likes to think that all good things come to those who wait and as such seems to be blessed with infinite patience. He is also friendly and is very willing to forgive anything except when it comes to the well-being of his people.

Not many people know he actually exists which does get him down a bit, as he's not exactly shy or quiet. He doesn't throw himself into the limelight but at the same time Thorfin doesn't think that he's that forgettable or ignorable.

He is always willing to lend a hand when it comes to anything, no matter how trivial the matter might be. A friendly young man who is always happy to have anyone as a guest or go down to the pub with them for a casual drink. He loves to have a laugh and mess around – but even if he doesn't seem to be Thorfin does know when he needs to be serious.

He hates confrontations, they leave him fairly grumpy and irritable afterwards – however he is not afraid to take up arms or stand his corner with stubbornness he has got from both his Norwegian and Scottish rules. He is an accomplished fisherman, farmer and all-round handy man with a love for music, dancing and gossip.

Thorfin is good friends with Canada, who actually has a lot of residents of Orcadian descent thanks to the Hudson Bay Company. And he also has some connections with North Italy in the form of the Italian prisoners of war from WWII and one in particular Domenico Chiocchetti – from Moena – who built the Italian Chapel which still stands on the Island of Lamb Holm to this day.

_**Shetland**_

Holger Eriksson. Built very similarly to his cousin, Thorfin, Holger has straight, shoulder-length blond hair and bright green eyes. He also tends to dress for colder weather most of the time – which means he has trouble when it comes to warmer conditions.

For the most part he is very similar to Thorfin in his personality, although he isn't quite as social and can be wary of unfamiliar individuals. He also tends to cling to more of his Norwegian heritage than Thorfin did and has more of a temper. He doesn't associate much with the rest of the British Isles but he is on very good terms with his cousin. Holger is very quick to defend his cousin, though he knows very well that he doesn't need to.

Holger doesn't get out very often and as such has grown very accustomed to being on his own – though he won't shun friendly company as long as it isn't for too long and he happens to know the company in question.

He shares a love of dancing and music with his cousin and often finds himself getting dragged out by the more outgoing man for a few drinks and generally a good banter. Holger is outwardly quite disapproving of Thorfin's love of good gossip, but secretly gets quite into such things himself.

One pass-time Holger is incredibly fond of is fishing and swimming, though he was never the farmer that his cousin was. Thorfin teases him a lot about his huge man-crush on Norway.

_**Nicknames - Courtesy of Scotland**_

Ireland: Tattie (means potato), Slate (means ginger)

Wales: Lamb (this is due to his quiet nature not because of certain stereotypes)

Orkney: Wean (small child)

Shetland: Sook (Suck up)

England: Has various nicknames, depending on which one Scotland feels like using at the time, none of them are particularly nice. Boggin baw bag (smelly scrotum), Bufty (derogatory term for male homosexual), Crabbit (grumpy) Bufty, Wee Gob Shite (small person who talks a load of crap), Nyaff (Annoying, wee bugger, applies particularly to politicians), Scunner (That which sickens, disgusts or bores) and the list goes on and on.

* * *

A/N: So here are a few Hetalia-fied nations, all around the British Isles, Orkney and Shetland are located to the North East of Scotland and are considered his territory. So anyway, I'd like to hear what you think of them!


	2. Chapter 2

_**Mamma Celt**_

Voeddog. A slightly taller than average woman with a good willowy build. Her skin was fair and her hair fell in an unkempt fiery mane decorated with random braids and beads. Her eyes were an unusual sharp shade of amber and she had a naturally wolfish grin. She was constantly dressed in light armor and had many Celtic tattoos upon her body. She only painted her face for battle and never at any other time.

An honest woman with a playful and slightly mischievous manner. She enjoyed games – and general messing around. Celt was a free spirit with a mind purely of her own and a strong will. Stubborn as a mountain but she was always willing to lend an ear should someone need her to listen. She also had a quick temper and was prone to physically violent outbursts (particularly if her boys were threatened in any way).

While she lavished all of her sons with her love she never spoiled them and was quick to discipline them in whatever way she saw fit. She encouraged rough-housing between her boys and free thinking. Her boys would become strong and independent nations – she had been determined of that.

An expert huntress and warrior – Celt wasn't all that great at being a woman. She had the maternal instincts of one but any further than that and she was hopeless. Asking her to cook was like signing your own death-warrant and her housekeeping skills were non-existent. Celt could mend and patch clothing to an extent but it was never sturdy enough to last very long. However her skills in the art of magic have remained unrivalled even long after her demise and her affinity for the 'wee folk' was even stronger than those possessed by her sons.

She had a habit of taking human lovers and changing them fairly often – not wanting to grow attached and end up in some broken mess when their deaths arrived all too soon. After all she had to be strong for her tribes. Being a little bit of a hypocrite at times Celt always advised her boys against such things and urged them to take on meaningful relationships wherever they could because going on like she did took its toll on her emotionally.

While Celt normally makes a point to leave the past in the past she never let go of her hatred for Rome - after his invasions of her sons' lands. In contrast she always tended to get along fairly well with Germania - in fact she had a faint crush-like admiration towards him although they were never anything more than friends (most likely because of Celt's preference for women).

Her preferred weapon was probably the bow and arrow although she was also very good with a hand-axe.

_**More of Scotland's Nicknames**_

Canada: Matta, Wee Pal

America: Ba'-heid (one with an over-inflated sense of self importance), Daftie (harmless idiot)

Celt: Maw, Mither (both mean mother or just mum)

* * *

**A/N:** I have looked EVERYWHERE on the internet I can think of and I cannot find any hints as to how to pronounce Mamma Celt's name. Anyway this is the last family member as I like to think that both Irelands would have one personification, despite being ruled differently, as they were one country for so long. I did try and make a Southern Ireland though and I just couldn't get her to work so we're stuck with one Ireland my lovelies.

Also one thing I'd like to add about Thorfin (Orkney) is that he quite often walks with a limp which he never acknowledges. Also I take some historical liberties with Orkney and Shetland and in my head canon they are actually roughly the same age as the Ancients or so but they themselves really have no idea because they were completely isolated from the rest of the world until Norway came and made them his territory.

One thing I maybe should have put last time is about Ireland's 'fairy-companion' A Cu Sith is a monstrous hound with green fur which guarded faerie mounds in Scottish and Irish mythology. It was said that it's howls warned of death. But Connal is really a big sweetheart that loves attention.

And after this the actual one-shots begin! Pairings will be rampant throughout, but I haven't really decided fully on which ones yet. And the focus won't really be on said pairings for the most part.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Forgiveness isn't always worth the hassle – but someone had to be the one to do it.  
Summary: Some of the Allies have an angry confrontation with Orkney after he openly expressed forgiveness towards Germany and Prussia just after they were captured after WW II  
Characters: Orkney, Germany, Prussia, Russia, Shetland, America, England, France  
Pairings: some hinted Orkney/Shetland

There is no Historical evidence to support this – I just feel this is what the character would do.

* * *

The Allies, including the entire British Isles family stood facing Germany and Prussia who were bound to hard wooden chairs by handcuffs. Once proud and dignified the defeated nations were hardly recognisable.

From his position near the back (he wasn't considered important enough to be close to the captives) the personification of the Orkney Islands studied the two men, his lips set in a thin line as opposed to the casual and lop-sided grin that usually graced his features.

Germany's hair sat lank and greasy against his head – his eyes, once filled with such fire, appeared almost dead. He had abandoned the destroyed jacket of his uniform and now it lay filthy and disgraced by his feet. The larger of the two brothers had come with them without a word or even an attempt at struggling – simply resigned to whatever fate would be thrown his way. In fact he hadn't so much as glanced at any of them from the time they arrived this afternoon.

Then there was Prussia ... face set in a feral scowl of defiance that didn't reach his eyes. It was like he was using the last of his will power just to maintain the facade that he hadn't been defeated yet – but Thorfin could see otherwise. The reality was that both of them were just as run-down and deflated as the other. Well, after all of that, who among them wasn't?

England and America were addressing the brothers, their tones accusatory and voices trembling slightly. He expected the words being thrown from America – as young and brash as he was. However for England to be stooping to the same level? Thorfin could feel disgust at his adopted-cousin curling in his stomach. It wasn't a sensation that Orkney was used to feeling and he definitely didn't like it. Apparently Shetland had noticed as well because he turned his frowning gaze towards Thorfin, green eyes glinting with concern he would never bring himself to voice. He ignored his fellow Northern Islands, incapable of his characteristic cheerfulness and he was almost ashamed of it.

Thorfin didn't mind America, really. The kid was alright most of the time – but what right did he have to be here? The United States had no business in European affairs; his presence here felt wrong and unnecessary.

Prussia spat out something in German, clearly irate at the waves of accusations. How could he be blamed for that? Orkney had tuned the two out long ago, not wanting to listen to everything being said. They all knew what had occurred, continuously bringing it up wasn't going to help matters in the slightest. Couldn't Arthur see that? Obviously not because he kept on going – acting as if Gilbert hadn't even lashed out with his tongue.

Thorfin clenched and unclenched his fists, vaguely aware of Holger's hand squeezing his shoulder and his gruff voice hissing lowly at him to keep his head – not to do anything stupid. _Easier said than done._

This had been going on for far too long and Thorfin decided he'd had enough.

Shrugging Holger's hand away roughly he limped forward, ignoring the looks he got from England's brothers, France and Russia. A large strong hand clutched at Arthur's shoulder and pulled to snap his attention away from the German brothers.

Angry green eyes narrowed up at him as England rounded on Orkney. "What the hell? Can't you see we're in the middle of something, Orkney?" Arthur snapped only to receive a glare in return.

"What I _see_ is two younglings taking their anger out on a pair that can't even defend themselves!" he growled. Unused to seeing the perpetually jovial nation in such a manner Arthur shut up almost immediately and just allowed Thorfin to pass in his shock. The dark-haired nation halted once he was standing in front of the two blonds. Gilbert glared up at him suspiciously, teeth grinding together. Thorfin couldn't blame him - they had been on opposite sides in the war. Prussia had no reason to trust his intentions, in fact Thorfin could very likely have been the same way should the positions have been reversed.

He could feel other eyes upon his back; eyes filled with questions, confusion and suspicion. However he just could not care less at the moment - his attentions were on the two Germans in front of him. The consequences would be dealt with later, and Thorfin knew that there likely would be. It didn't matter though - after all Scotland wouldn't let Arthur do anything serious to either of his Northern Isles.

Prussia barked at him in German, demanding to know what Thorfin wanted from him and his brother. The uncharacteristic expression on Orkney's face melted into a reassuring grin as he fished inside his jacket pockets, taking out two purple sprigs of heather which had been carefully preserved in plastic. He moved so that he was mostly in front of Germany and hissed in pain as he knelt down on his bad leg so he could see the man's eyes. Satisfied with what he saw there Thorfin placed one sprig into the trouser pockets of both German brothers. "Purple heather from one of my Islands - a good-will gift from me. You're both strong, you'll make it through this; and when you do I expect you both to join me at my place for drinks." he told them, tone light hearted and casual but with a hint of firmness beneath it all that said You'd better make it through this, lads.

Normally he would have said more but Thorfin knew he had definitely overstayed his welcome here now. So with a squeaze of each man's shoulder he straightened himself up as best he could before limping awkwardly out of the room, catching Shetland's eye with a shake of his head. He didn't want the other's company just now. Getting the message Holger just nodded stiffly, shifting his gaze away again.

* * *

"What was that, you bloody traitor?" Thorfin looked around at the snapping of England's voice. He wasn't the only one who looked pissed off - the rest of the allies seemed just as angry apart from Shetland, Wales and Ireland. "Do you have any idea what you did back there? You undermined us in front of the enemy _and_ to top it all off extended the hand of friendship to those monsters!"

Immediately Thorfin's face set into that scowl which just did not belong on his perpetually cheerful features. "Monsters? They're no more monsters than any of us have been in the past!" he growled, wincing as he forced himself onto his feet from the chair he had been sitting in. "The war is over now, isn't that enough for you?" he didn't have the energy to shout back right now - Thorfin was far too tired for such confrontation. However he made sure he let his emotions seep into his voice as far as he could in order to get his opinions and, hopefully, his point across to the other nations in front of him.

"Mon île du Nord, this does not change the fact you had no right to go against us with this." France stated. "What part did you even play in this war, to be able to think you have such rights?" Thorfin's blue-grey eyes visibly twitched and his fist clenched.

However before he could respond America butted in with that loud voice of his. "Yeah, dude! Seriously do you even know what those bad guys did? We're doing the world a favor here!" he exclaimed, clearly unable to find any sort of reasoning behind Orkney's actions. He wasn't the only one - all of the British Isles (minus Shetland) seemed just as confused about the whole thing although they hadn't spoken up about it yet. It didn't look like Canada, Russia or China would be speaking up any time soon either. Which suited Thorfin just fine.

"Don't act like you have any more right to speak out than I do, Alfred!" Thorfin ground out. "These are European affairs and by all rights you shouldn't even be here today!" the Northern nation proceeded to glare at England and France. He hated confrontations he really did but if they wanted one then Orkney was not going to back down until he had said his piece. They could hate him as much as they wanted for it but that wouldn't change what he had decided. "I've lost children to this war as well - my population isn't large and I felt each individual loss far more than most of you will have. Scapa Flow lies in _my_ territory and it's because of that and the Churchhill barriers that their forces couldn't reach the United Kingdom by sea! The remains of German ships lie in full view amongst _my_ Islands. So don't dare accuse me of doing nothing in this war, France!"

Shetland had moved now to help steady him as he was looking shaky on his bad leg, but Thorfin didn't seem to notice. "The difference between me and you younglings is that I seem to be the only one who can see when enough is enough! Are you even able to figure out what caused this war to come around?" he didn't allow anyone the chance to respond. He was on a roll now and regardless of what happened afterwards he would make his voice heard. "Anger, bitterness and loneliness. Nobody even tried to prevent this - too caught up in their own selfishness. I don't know about any of you ... but I don't want a third Great War. Someone had to take the first step in stopping this from happening again and it wasn't going to be any of you. So say what you want - I stand my ground with this."

"Insolent little brat!" before Arthur could strike Holger's hand wrapped around his forearm in a vice-like grip.

Dark green eyes narrowed viciously at him and England gasped when his arm was suddenly twisted to a painful angle with no effort from the furthest North of Scotland's territories. "Lay one finger on him and I _will_ hurt you. That goes for the rest of you as well." his voice seemed calm but the glint in his eyes was a dangerous one that none, save Russia would consciously ignore.

Arthur's jaw set in an angry line, Tadhg was likely going to get a big talking-to about keeping his territories in line. In fact the glares he sent towards both the Northern Isles also got directed at his oldest brother. "Fine. It doesn't matter anyway - after all neither of you hold any power or significance." he sneered, wrenching his arm free. "In the end nothing will change because of your actions today, so it doesn't matter one bit!"

With those final words Holger steered Thorfin away, one arm around his waist to support him while he let an arm settle around Holger's shoulders for the same reason. Neither spoke and just made their way home in silence.

Words weren't needed, Thorfin hadn't heeded Holger's warning but he hadn't been expected to. Thorfin was exhausted from the fighting and the strain he'd put on his bad leg today. As much as he probably wanted to reprimand the dark-haired nation Holger kept his mouth firmly shut. If it wasn't for the fact that he needed help getting home then Thorfin probably wouldn't even be allowing his presence right now. Tensions and emotions were running far too high and Holger didn't want to be on the receiving end of what Thorfin could still throw at him.

On the other hand Thorfin was silently fuming, he'd known things wouldn't go down well with the others. He had been fully prepared for that. What he hadn't expected was for the obstinate younglings to throw such things in his face like England had done. To keep what little pride and composure he had left Thorfin clung desparately to the hope that all of this would eventually be worth it.

* * *

http:/ www. youtube . com / watch?v = HFn44QyvIOs&feature = related (get rid of the spaces. This is what the Orcadian accent sounds like - I can't write in it at all so if you're curious then just check out this short video to find out.)

mon île du Nord - French for My northern island.

There you go guys, a sort of heavy one for the first one shot but a lot of them will be more light-hearted and fun to make up for it I promise :) Let me know what you think, any tips for improvement are always welcome!


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